


Window

by MewMewKitty78



Series: "Stanchez" Drabbles [1]
Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Disapproving Father, Established Relationship, Fluff (?), Friends With Benefits, Homosexuality, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Implied Sexual Situatons, M/M, Mild Language, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Snark, The '70s, rick is gross, sort of, stanchez, young!Rick, young!stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 00:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10262216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MewMewKitty78/pseuds/MewMewKitty78
Summary: Rick sneaks into Stan's window at 1AM and grosses Stan out. Stan punishes him by making him talk about his feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be one short page of smut, but it ended up being six pages of...whatever this is. I hope this is good, and I also hope it's in character. It's my first time writing Stanchez, so I'm not quite sure I've got Stan and Rick's voices down pat yet.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this work. Just thought I should point that out.

There was a sudden tap on the window, and it hadn’t really startled Stan as he’d been listening out for it. He couldn’t help but smirk as he left his sports magazine on his bed and went over to the window to let his friend in, and said smirk only grew when he saw Rick, pierced tongue sticking out his mouth, flipping him off through the glass. Stan unlocked the window and slid it open as quietly as possible, trying not wake the other members of his household. He wasn’t supposed to be sneaking people into his room at 1AM; he _especially_ wasn’t supposed to be sneaking Rick into his room at 1AM.

Stan didn’t speak until he was absolutely sure the window wouldn’t come crashing down onto Rick’s spine, as it had come _very_ close to doing on two separate occasions (the first incident had happened the first time Stan had tried sneaking Rick into his window; the second had happened when they were both too drunk to function, let alone operate a broken window).

“Hey there,” Stan said with a wink and a snap of the fingers. “How ya doin’?”

“Peachy,” Rick responded, with a roll of his eyes. “M-my ass is partially frozen, but t-that’s only because some dickwheat hasn’t i-invited me inside yet.” It was Stan’s turn to roll his eyes, but there was a smile on his face as he did it.

“How’d you get up here this time?” He asked, peeking around Rick to see how he’d made it to the second story.

“Retractable ladder shoes,” Rick shoved his skinny arms into the window as he answered, and Stan hooked his hands under the lankier man’s armpits, and then proceeded to more or less drag Rick into the room. “I h-hold a button and they elevate me to however high I w-want to go. I press the button a-again and the ladders…they g-go right back into my fucking f-feet! H-here, watch,” Rick, with his lower legs still sticking out the window, dug in his pants pocket and produced a small box with a red button on it. He pressed it and Stan watched as the stupid ass ladders attached to Rick’s dangling combat boots retracted back into them with a mechanical whir.

“Cool,” Stan complemented, finally pulling Rick all the way inside of his room once his shoes were normal. “But I guess that means no more pebble throwing?”

“F- _fuck_ no, d-don’t you remember what happened last time w-we tried that shit?” Rick said, brushing the invisible dirt off of his incredibly low cut t-shirt. Stan chuckled and plopped back down onto his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands to look at Rick –who was making a rather big show of bending over to unlace his boots.

“Of course, I remember what happened last time. My dad was pissed at you; shit was _hilarious_.” ‘Pissed’, if Stan was being honest, was a complete understatement. When, almost a month ago, Stan’s father had woken up at two in the morning to the sound of a window breaking and realized the sound had come from the direction of one of his children’s rooms, he’d immediately thought the worst and had burst into Stan’s room ready to completely fuck somebody up. Of course once he had entered the room, he quickly realized his youngest son was in no incredible danger, and instead looked incredibly guilty. He also realized than Stan was shooting frequent looks out the window, almost as if someone was out there.

Stan’s father hadn’t been surprised to see that it had been Rick who had broken his son’s window by throwing less of a pebble, more of a _big ass rock_ at it in order to get his son’s attention, and Stan hadn’t been surprised when Rick was banned from ever coming over to the Pines Household again, hence the need to sneak him in tonight.

“Yeah well, i-it wasn’t hilarious to me. He made me…I h-had to pay eighty fucking dollars to get that hunk o’shit fixed o-or else he’d call the cops and say I was t-trespassing,” Rick huffed, flopping half onto the bed and half onto Stan. Stan’s arm unconsciously found its way round Rick’s shoulders, and the dark-haired genius leaned into Stan’s embrace in return.

“Like, seriously? _Trespassing_? O-out of all the crimes your father c-could accuse me of, that’s the b-best he could come up with?” Rick continued, causing Stan to sigh. If he had twenty bucks for every time Rick subjected him to one of his god damned rants, he’d have enough money to pay for college by now.

“Yeah, _fuck you_ , I hear you over there sighing. But really, I mean…w-what about the underage drinking? Or the fact that I come here occasionally s-smelling like the Devil’s Lettuce? Does your dad not notice this? Or h-how about the fact that I’m n-nineteen years old and I’m always up h-here fucking one of his seventeen year old sons?”

“My dad doesn’t really care about those first two things, and he doesn’t know about the last one,” Stan answered, then shrugged. “Or at least he pretends he doesn’t know about the last one.”

“T-there’s no way anyone living here couldn’t know about the last one, w-with the amount of time we spend in here. Not to mention the sounds you make,” Rick said with a rather lecherous grin. “Seriously, you’re louder than I am, and I’m _fffucking_ loud.”

“Shuddup,” Stan groaned, face turning red and only getting redder as Rick laughed. He needed someone new to hang out with, really he did.

“S-so what were you even doing before The Rick g-graced you with his presence?” Rick asked, scooting into the space behind Stan so he could fully lounge on the bed. He picked up the magazine Stan had been skimming and scoffed. “ _’Sports Weekly: The Football Star Addition’_? Y-you’re such a fucking _jock_ , Stanley, holy shit.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He snatched the magazine out of Rick’s hands and put it on his nightstand. “Speaking of which, are you ever gonna give me my letterman jacket back?” Rick gave him a shit eating grin.

“N-nope!” “Well, why the fuck not? You never even wear it,” Stan huffed, gently digging his knuckles into Rick’s side, causing Rick to squirm in a way that said he was trying really hard not to be ticklish, but was failing terribly.

“Yeah, I do; I wear that shit all the time. Y-you just never see me,” Rick countered, grabbing Stan’s wrist and digging his nails in when it became apparent Stan wasn’t going to stop. Stan snatched his wrist back and scoffed.

“Bull _shit_. When?” He asked, genuinely curious. When he’d told Rick he could borrow his jacket, Stan had been kind of (correction: really) hoping to see him wear it. A feeling of affectionate possessiveness always clenched at his heart when he imagined Rick wearing any of his clothes, and Stan had to admit that the idea of seeing his one of his t-shirts hang off Rick’s lanky frame was sort of hot. Not that it really fucking mattered, because Rick just barely had the power to keep his own fucking clothes on, let alone to put on any of Stan’s. Stan had hoped it’d be different with the jacket, especially since getting the thing had been a really big deal to him (it meant he was an official member of the football team, and looked great when he wore it next to the shiny football trophy that sat on his computer desk). And if Rick –who knew all about Stan’s clothing kink- was only wearing the jacket when Stan wasn’t around to see him in it, he was a bigger dick than Stan thought, and Stan already thought Rick was a pretty big dick.

Said big dick leaned in very close to Stan, a sultry smile on his face and a warm hand running up Stan’s arm to rest on his shoulder.

“I wear it when I _masturbate_ ,” Rick practically purred, flicking his tongue out over his bottom lip. “I-it still smells like you and everything, and i-it really helps me g-get off.” It was clear that Rick was trying to turn Stan on, what with his dirty explanation and the fact that one of his hands was incredibly close to being down Stan’s pants, but instead of sinking into Rick’s touch as he usually would, Stan grimaced and shot Rick a look.

“Fuck, ew. You’re like, _the_ messiest person I know. I mean, you have the worst aim ever; that jacket’s probably covered in… _ugh_ , it’s probably fucking crusty and everything.” He groaned and shook his head.

“Oh, y-yeah, it _totally_ is,” Rick agreed, pressing his smirking face into Stan’s neck. “J-just imagine, w-walking around school and g-going to football practice around all those homophobic, not out of the closet yet assholes, in a jacket c-completely c-covered in my fucking _seed_ ,”

“ _Fuck_ you!” Stan practically hollered, shoving Rick as far away from him as possible, stomach churning at the very thought. Rick fell back onto the bed, cackling with laughter until tears formed in his eyes. Stan was tempted to smother him with a fucking pillow.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Stan huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the wall. Rick, who had finally stopped laughing, looked up at Stan in amusement and let out a loud belch.

“F-fuck yeah I am, w-what are you going to do about it?” He challenged. Stan turned to look at Rick for a second and smirked when he saw how far Rick’s so-called “shirt” had ridden up. The entirety of Rick’s stomach and ribs were currently on display, and Stan knew a good opportunity when he saw one. He shifted up onto his knees and glowered down at Rick, causing a slightly concerned expression to spread over the darker haired man’s face.

“I’m gonna teach you a fucking lesson,” Stan said darkly, and straddled Rick faster than the genius could react and trapped both of his skinny arms underneath one of his beefy biceps. His other arm went to Rick’s exposed middle, fingers ghosting over the taut skin there. When Rick realized what was about to happen, he shot Stan a glare that probably would’ve been scary if he hadn’t weighed ninety pounds less than Stan did.

“Stan, I swear to _fuck_ ,” Rick growled through clenched teeth. “I-if you don’t let me up, I’ll-I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” Stan interrupted with a chuckle. “Vaporize me in my sleep?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Rick hissed. Stan rolled his eyes and rested his hand heavily on Rick’s stomach, taking pleasure in the gasp that escaped his ‘victim’s’ lips.

“Yeah, _right_. You wouldn’t hurt a hair on my fucking head. Who would you drunkenly say _“I love you”_ to if you did?” The smirk on Stan’s face reached his eyes as he watched Rick turn completely pink in embarrassment underneath him, face froze in shock.

Stan knew that Rick had been under the assumption that Stan had been too shit-faced drunk to remember the night (the same night the window had almost killed them both) Rick had had a vodka-induced breakdown on Stan’s bedroom floor, during which he admitted how unhappy he was at home, how much he wanted people to like him, and how desperately in love with Stan he actually was, though he did add on how unlikely he was to admit any of this while he was sober.

Stan, being the decent guy he was, realized that these were things Rick hadn’t been –and maybe never would be- ready to tell him when he wasn’t hammered, and chose not to bring it up unless Rick did. Of course Rick never did bring it up, and at a certain point, Stan had figured out that Rick thought Stan had no recollection of that night whatsoever, which he let Rick believe as not to embarrass the other man.

That night, however, had been months ago, and it had become increasingly obvious to _anybody_ who encountered the two, that they were ridiculously into one another, and denying that fact now was just plain stupid. Stan would never approach the other two subjects spoken of that night without Rick mentioning them first, but he felt it was time for them to get over themselves, and the homophobia, and their stupid-ass hang ups, and just admit they fucking loved each other.

And if this was a bad way of going about starting that particular conversation, Stan didn’t give much of a shit, because he and Rick had been playing this beat-around-the-bush game for a while now, and frankly, he was sick of it.

“I-I n-never s-said that,” Rick denied, nervousness causing his stutter to work overtime. He was pointedly avoiding Stan’s eyes.

“You did,” Stan said calmly, waiting for Rick to make eye contact. “And we really need to address that shit.”

 _“W-why_?” Rick groaned. “Why c-can’t we i-ignore it like all o-our other emotions? W-why c-can’t we j-just fuck and be d-done with it?”

“Cause we’ve been “just fucking” for a year now, and it’s obvious that’s not what this is anymore,” Stan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, fuck, Rick…Aren’t you sick of dancing around this shit? Don’t you want more than just us exchanging bodily fluids n’ shit?”

Despite the severity of the conversation, Rick laughed at Stan’s last comment and then sighed. There really was no point in lying anymore.

“Yeah, okay. M-maybe I d-do want more than j-just sex. B-but I don’t k-know what “more” is and even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to go a-about it,” He sulked, causing Stan to shrug.

“Yeah, well, neither do I. But…I’m willing to try and figure it out if you are,” He said, leaving it entirely up to Rick. He’d already forced this conversation onto him, the last thing Stan wanted to do was force Rick into a relationship he didn’t want (though the very fact Stan could force Rick to do _anything_ really said something).

There was a pause, and Stan shifted nervously on top of Rick. It’d be a pretty shitty night if Rick decided he didn’t want to try… _whatever_ the two of them could have out. Stan’d be losing both his best friend and his first love, all in one go.

Finally, after taking the longest fucking time to decide and almost giving Stan three anxiety attacks, Rick took and deep breath, looked Stan in his eyes, and nodded.

“Y-yeah, o-okay. Let’s fucking try it,” He said and Stan nearly split his face open from smiling so hard.

“I can’t believe you almost gave me a fucking heart attack just to say yes, you asshole. You did that on purpose, _didn’t_ you?” Stan said in between laughs, leaning down to press his forehead against Rick’s, who simply snorted.

“Yeah, kind of,” He admitted, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose against Stan’s, a content look on his face. “I-I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m sort of a d-dick.”

“Oh trust me, I’ve noticed.” Stan said, though there was far too much affection in his voice for it to be an insult. “But don’t think this means I’m not still going to teach you that lesson.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Rick asked, opening one eye to look at Stan in confusion. Both of Rick’s eyes widened a second later in realization, but by that time it had been too late, as Stan had once again pinned Rick to the mattress.

“Stan, w-what the fuck, man! Just cause we’re d-dating or whatever doesn’t mean I w-won’t send you spiraling into the multiverse!” Rick cried, struggling to get from underneath Stan, to no avail. Stan looked down at his sort-of boyfriend and smirked.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” He said and proceed to jam his fingers into Rick’s side, causing said man to cry out in laughter and let out the occasional swear word. This went on for another five minutes, before the bedroom door was slammed open, and Stan and Rick were startled into silence.

Standing in the doorway was Stan’s father, who was sporting a bathrobe and sending a poisonous look in Rick’s direction.

“Sanchez, I’m giving you five seconds to get the hell out of my house before I throw you out myself,” Mr. Pines growled, and neither Stan nor Rick doubted he would. Rick slid from out underneath Stan and quickly pulled on both of his boots.

“Alright, Mr. Pines, I’ll see you some other time. It’s always great talking to ya!” Rick said cheerily, waving to Stan’s father and angling himself out the window. He pulled the red button out of his pants pocket and held it down until he was safely standing on his dual shoe-ladders and turned his head to Stan, who face-palmed in preparation for whatever idiotic thing Rick was about to say.

“And I’ll see _you_ tomorrow, **boyfriend**.” Rick said, putting incredible emphasis on his final word. He blew Stan a kiss and ducked all the way out the window, going on his own way.

Stan sat on his bed, hand still covering his burning face. His father sighed and said, in the most disappointed tone Stan had ever heard, “I knew it,” and walked out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

While Stan knew that his father’s disappointment did not stem from the fact he was gay (well, it didn’t now; they’d been through that whole thing already, but Stan had made up for it by becoming head of the football team), but from the fact that he was gay for Rick Sanchez, that did not help him relieve his embarrassment in the slightest. And neither had Rick’s little fucking announcement, which had been the so-called genius’ way of getting back at Stan’s father for kicking him out of the house.

Stan sighed. He loved Rick, he really did, but holy _fuck_ was he going to fucking _murder_ him tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sure where this idea came from. Whatever, I'm gonna go write some more of these.


End file.
